


The Greatest Gift of Life is Friendship

by rebelmeg



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And a little bit of humor and angst, Avengers Family, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Gets A Hug, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Banner Week, Bruce Banner-centric, Bruce gets all the platonic affection, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Tony Stark, Science Bros, Science Nerd Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 18:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg
Summary: Bruce deserves nice things.  And by nice things, we mean all the platonic affection for this touch-starved genius with breathtaking anger management issues.  His teammates and friends are happy to line up with nice things.





	The Greatest Gift of Life is Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> I just love my Brucie-bear so much, so this is my submission for Bruce Week! I'm really glad I finished it in time, and prepare yourself for all the platonic affection!
> 
> All my love to my wonderful beta, @rudearrow, for her dealing with my grammar issues, love of commas and ellipses, and an absolute dumpster fire of an unfinished mess. (Anyone else just kind of wander away mid-sentence and forget to come back and finish what you were doing...?)
> 
> Title is borrowed from a quote by Hubert H. Humphrey.

The thing about… about changing, into the Other Guy, was that even though it was easier, when Bruce let it happen instead of fighting against it, it wasn’t actually easy.

It _hurt_ , in every cell of his body, and coming back wasn’t any better. In fact, coming back was worse. With no idea of what he’d done, just flashes of it in his mind, and always waking up somewhere he didn’t recognize. The mortification of being naked more often than not, usually with people around. It was horrible. And it scared him to death every time.

After he’d been out with the Avengers a few times, they fell into a kind of routine with it; figuring out what Bruce needed after changes, how to work with the Hulk when he was in charge of their body. It was… nice, he figured, to have them around. Not easier, but better, in a way.

The fifth time the Avengers got called out, there was some psycho threatening to shoot up a school, and Bruce had barely heard the news before the Hulk was taking over and on the rampage. Little kids, being scared and threatened and in danger of being hurt… that hit a little too close to home.

He didn’t hurt anybody. Or, well, anybody he shouldn’t have. There were probably pieces of the guy with the machine gun strewn across a few sidewalks. The gun itself had been crushed to powder.

Bruce changed back to himself several blocks away, inside some kind of warehouse, the memories of screaming kids at that school mixing with memories of his own screams when he’d been that age.

The clothes he’d been wearing before he changed were in ragged tatters, partially hanging off his elbows and thighs with nothing substantial enough to use to cover himself. So he scooted back into a corner, brought his knees up to his chest, and rested his head on his folded arms.

Natasha found him like that, not too long after. She still tended to avoid the Hulk when she could, unease in her eyes when she was in proximity to him. But she always came looking for Bruce once the smashing stopped.

He didn’t look up, he knew it was her by the lightness of the footsteps and the way she didn’t say anything once she spotted him. He might have been sitting there naked, but that didn’t mean he had to let her see the tears on his face.

She said nothing as she neared him, and Bruce almost expected her to leave once she figured out where he was, but she didn’t. She came closer, until she was standing right next to him. He was trying to find his voice, trying to find something to say, then her hand gently landed on his head, her fingers stroking through his too-long curling hair.

It was a gesture of tenderness that Bruce feared as much as craved, and a sob escaped him as he sat there in the near-darkness of the warehouse with Natasha standing next to him.

Cap’s boots on the ground announced him before he came into the space, and Bruce quickly wiped his hands across his face to remove the wetness, getting himself under control.

“Hey, Bruce, here’s the emergency pants…” Steve paused, taking in Bruce’s hunched over form, and Natasha’s neutral face as she stood over him with her hand still in his hair. “Everything okay?”

Natasha nodded, her eyes calm, but Steve waited, looking at Bruce.

Bruce took in a shaky breath and lifted his head. “Yeah, Cap. Fine.”

It was clear Steve didn’t believe him, but he brought the change of clothes over anyway. “Alright. You’re not hurt?”

Bruce made a sound that was a little too close to a dry sob, and Natasha’s hand continued stroking his curls. “No. I never am.”

It wasn’t really a lie. He never had bruises, when he turned back into himself. But he felt every place that he got hurt. Every bullet, every impact, every blow.

“Here,” Natasha took the clothes from Steve and placed them on Bruce’s knees. “Put these on and we’ll get you home. You want me to call Tony for a ride?”

Bruce weighed his options. A somewhat terrifying ride back to the Tower, clinging to the Iron Man suit and squeezing his eyes shut so he didn’t see the ground so far below, or walking out of the warehouse and facing whatever damage he left behind until the quinjet arrived.

“Yeah. I’ll get a ride with Tony.”

By the time he was dressed, Tony had zoomed through the door and popped his helmet off, checking Bruce over for injuries even as a cut oozed blood down the side of his own face and one eye was starting to bruise black.

“We’ve gotta fix it so the interior of your suit doesn’t bang you up so much.” Bruce muttered, exhaustion weighing him down as Jarvis finished a quick scan.

“I’ll take it under advisement. Ready for a hug-and-fly?” Tony’s eyes were concerned despite his flippant words.

“Yeah. Ready for some sleep.”

“Your chariot awaits.” The helmet went back on, and the armor’s arms were out, waiting for him.

Bruce stepped forward, but suddenly Natasha was in front of him, her arms around him in a gentle hug. “You did great today,” She murmured in his ear before pulling back. 

He had to blink hard a couple times to make sure the tears weren’t going to make a second appearance. “Thanks, Nat.”

“We’ll see you back at the Tower.” Steve said, clapping both Bruce and Tony on the shoulder.

Bruce nodded and stepped up onto the boots of the armor, wrapping his arms in a tight hold around its neck. Tony tucked a metal arm securely around him and took off through a skylight in the warehouse roof, calling down at Steve and Natasha, “Don’t hog all the press photos this time, I have to keep up my image.”

* * *

“How you doing, Big Green?”

Bruce looked up as Tony entered the lab with two mugs in his hands, but stayed where he was on the couch. It was comfortable, and he was aching all over.

“Fine.”

“You look pretty terrible for being fine.” 

Tony handed over one of the steaming mugs, and Bruce smelled one of the tea blends he liked. He smiled, if a little bit weakly. “Thanks.”

“You getting ready to conk out?” Tony sipped at his own coffee, watching Bruce with eyes that always saw way more than he let on.

“Maybe. Kind of jittery. Can’t really settle.”

“Tea might have been a bad idea, then.”

Bruce shook his head and took in the scent of the tea on a long, slow inhale. “This one is decaf, actually.”

“Lucky you.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, sipping at their beverages, watching Dummy and U across the lab as they worked on assembling small parts for repairs to the Iron Man suit.

“You seemed a bit more broken down today than you are usually.” Tony said quietly, breaking the silence. “I might not be the greatest listener, but I could try.”

Bruce smiled, just a little, and shook his head. “Nah, thanks though. Just some memories that I wasn’t prepared for.”

“Anything I can do? Other than putting a rush order on the nano-pants so you're not hanging around with your johnson in the breeze next time your pants get shredded?”

Just the fact that he asked was a lot, actually. “No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Bruce looked up, seeing worry in his friend’s face. He felt like he had to explain, to say something to lift a little of that concern, if he could. “Yeah. The thing is, uh… this is my own fault. My own ego, my own arrogance, my own confidence in my own genius, that did this to me.” He had to look away, seeing a kinship in Tony’s eyes that was too much. “It wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t forced on me, nobody made me do this. I did this. To myself. And that’s where my well of anger lives. I’m always angry, and I’m angry at myself.”

Tony nodded, “I get that.” He tapped at the arc reactor glowing faintly under his David Bowie t-shirt. “I may not have pulled the trigger, so to speak, but I put the bullets in the gun. And I mean that literally and figuratively.”

Bruce shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “We kind of suck, don’t we?”

A startled laugh burst out of Tony, and he held up his empty coffee mug, wiggling it in the air. “Hey, U, come play garcon.” 

The bot trundled over happily, taking the mug gently in his claw and depositing it in the lab sink. 

“You done with yours, Brucie-bear?”

Snorting at the nickname, Bruce finished off his tea and held it steady so U could take it away, then raised his eyebrows at Tony as a soft, slightly ragged blanket landed on his lap. 

“Your heart rate is lower, you’re not jiggling your leg anymore, and I can feel you getting sleepy, it’s practically contagious. My lap or yours?” Tony held up a pillow.

Shaking his head again as he smiled a little, Bruce took the pillow and put it in his lap after he arranged himself more comfortably, sitting diagonally on the couch with his head resting on the arm of it. With a pleased hum, Tony tossed his legs over his arm of the couch and settled his head on the pillow on Bruce’s thigh, tugging his own worn MIT blanket over himself. 

“Don’t let us miss dinner, J.”

“Of course not, sir.” The AI agreed, dimming the lights as the two scientists closed their eyes.

Bruce felt sleep coming, and sighed almost contentedly. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling the blanket up to his chin. “Anytime, pal.”

* * *

It wasn’t hard really to put it together; not once Steve asked Jarvis for help. Sometimes Bruce would disappear during movie night, and Steve considered it part of his job to make sure his team was okay. 

Sometimes it was just because Bruce was tired, or wanted to work in the lab, something innocent that wasn’t a cause for concern. Eventually though, Steve and Jarvis put a few pieces together and realized that sometimes, in certain situations, Bruce left because he was scared. Steve felt something in his chest clench and ache when he figured out why, a tragic sort of kinship he shared with Bruce.

They were both absolutely terrified of possibly being immortal. Due to the Hulk’s healing capabilities and the supersoldier serum, it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility. 

Steve had already outlived almost everyone he loved, and missed decades of what he’d thought his life would be like. The thought of going through that again, in slower, more excruciating detail was the source of more than a few nightmares that had him waking up in a cold sweat.

So he understood, in a truly visceral way, why Bruce ducked out of movie night sometimes, when themes of immortality came up. He had half a mind to leave himself on those occasions.

The next time it happened, Natasha was binging Doctor Who (they rarely argued with Natasha when she had control of the remote), and when Jack Harkness and his reluctant immortality appeared on screen, Steve's eyes followed Bruce as he excused himself and went out onto the attached balcony.

Misery loved company, right?

Natasha’s eyes flicked to him as he stood, but Steve just shook his head and smiled, letting her know he’d take care of it. With a nod, Natasha returned her attention back to the show, and Steve let himself out onto the balcony to join Bruce at the railing.

Dusk was just fading, the sun having slipped down below the horizon to let the twinkle and shine of the city lights below have their turn. The two men stood quietly for several minutes in the gathering darkness, watching stars come out above and lights wink on below.

“I’m scared of it too.” Steve finally said into the quiet.

Bruce looked over at him, a question in his eyes.

“Of living forever.”

The silence that fell this time was much heavier, weighted with a spoken fear that kept both men awake at night.

“I haven’t seen any noticeable signs of aging in two years.” Bruce murmured, back to staring at the city lights. “I wasn’t paying attention before that.”

Steve nodded, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t think about it until we watched that movie, the prison one. Green Mile?”

“Yeah.” Bruce hadn’t stuck around for the end of that one, having seen it before and preferring to do some work in the lab. But he’d seen Steve in the communal kitchen afterward, looking pale and shaken. That particular movie had more than one disturbing element to it, and Bruce hadn’t asked which one had left Steve in such a state. He knew now, though.

“I keep telling myself it’s only been a year, and really I'm only twenty-eight physically. It makes sense if I don’t notice anything yet.” Steve’s hands clenched around the railing. “But some days I just… I pray for one gray hair. One wrinkle. Just one sign that this won’t…”

Bruce finished for him. “That this won’t last forever.”

They stood next to each other, silent in fear and solidarity, for a long time. Finally, Steve took a deep breath and clapped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“They’re done in there, episode's over and Natasha's willing to surrender the remote. Wanna go back in? Thor’s trying to talk Clint into making cookie dough.” Steve’s enhanced hearing was pretty handy in times like these.

They both smiled, and Bruce looked over his shoulder to see Clint and Thor arguing back and forth across the island in the kitchen. Clint was gonna lose. He loved cookie dough just as much as Thor did, but he was probably gonna make Thor clean up in exchange for his services.

“Yeah, I could go for some cookie dough.”

They walked back to the glass door, and on the way, Steve put an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. The weight of the half-hug was comforting, and Bruce wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist, leaning into him a little.

It was nice. Having teammates. 

* * *

Sometimes, Bruce reappeared fairly quickly after the Hulk was brought out, the end of excitement prompting the change with no delays. Other times, the Hulk could be out for hours, which was always a tricky situation. Sometimes he just wanted to be left alone, sometimes he wanted company, and once in awhile he could even be coaxed into a Hulk-safe area on one of the floors of Bruce and Tony’s lab for some sciencing.

Hulk trusted Tony, probably more than any of the others, due to the guy’s apparent unflinching lack of fear whenever his Science Bro went green, and his tendency to start a conversation with literally anything.

On one such occasion, Tony had the Hulk in the lab, standing quietly while Jarvis performed every kind of scan possible without disturbing him.

Several floors below, Natasha watched on a holoscreen in her bedroom suite, rolling the handle of her hair brush over and over in her hand.

“How’s he doing, Jarvis?”

“The Hulk appears to be quite calm. His respiration and heartbeat are slow and even, and he seems to be plenty amused with the movie Sir has pulled up for him.”

“Finding Nemo?”

“Yes, he does prefer that one.”

She watched for a few more minutes, tracking Tony’s movements as he murmured to Jarvis, checked in with the Hulk, danced nimble fingers over several screens. The Hulk seemed exactly as calm as Jarvis said, sitting quietly and watching the Disney movie. It was as low-risk a scenario as possible, really.

Taking a long, deep, even breath, Natasha grabbed her own fear by the balls, tightened her grip on her brush, and went up to the lab.

Tony and Hulk both looked over as she entered, and she saw Tony’s surprise only peripherally. She was focused on the Hulk, looking up into his face, approaching him slowly but with determination.

“Here.” She held out the brush to the Hulk, only her force of will keeping her from shaking like a leaf.

Tony was looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes, his hands pausing on the holoscreen as Jarvis tracked the Hulk’s vitals. “Natasha?”

“It’s okay.” She said, holding the brush out closer to the Hulk, looking up into his face that was so like Bruce's, and yet so different.

Slowly, hesitantly, that huge green hand very gently took the brush.

Turning her back and holding her breath, Natasha sat cross-legged on the bare floor and waited. “Go for it, Big Guy.”

Several long, agonizing seconds passed, every single one extended to feel like an hour as Natasha waited, every muscle tight with restrained panic, until she felt the barest touch on the top of her head.

It took everything she had not to jump, to attack. But she kept still, and a few seconds later, it happened again. 

“Try it again, Jolly Green,” Tony suggested, and Natasha heard him moving around behind her. “Here, sit down.” A floor-shaking thud. “There we go. Now, hold it like this, and be very soft.” Another touch on the top of Natasha’s head, and this time she felt the bristles of the brush, just barely. 

“Good job. Now, try moving it through her hair, just down like that. Nat likes having her hair brushed, she has Clint do it all the time. You’re lucky, now you get to try too.” Tony’s voice was casual, gentle, with the same sense of camaraderie that he always had with Bruce. It was probably why Hulk liked him so much.

Another careful touch, and this time the brush actually caught a few strands of her hair, and it slowly moved down the length.

“Nice! Just keep doing that, you’re doing great. Jarvis, how are we doing?”

“Readings are slightly lower. It appears the Hulk finds this activity engaging and soothing.”

The seconds passed slowly, but they didn’t crawl by excruciatingly like they did before. As the Hulk gingerly ran the brush through her hair, Natasha’s muscles slowly loosened.

Tony alternated between talking to the Hulk and his AI, taking measurements and asking questions full of techno babble Natasha didn’t understand yet. A few minutes into the hair brushing, Jarvis welcomed Clint to the lab and Natasha relaxed a little further.

“Hey Jarvis, Tony, Hulk, Nat.”

Natasha lifted a hand in greeting, watching her best friend come over and settle on the floor directly in front of her, cross-legged with his knees touching hers. He put his hands palm-up on her knees, waiting for her to put her hands in his before rubbing circles over the pulse points in her wrists with his calloused fingertips. In a low murmur, he started reciting the words to a Russian lullaby, and the syllables spoken in his slightly husky voice washed over her.

With Clint anchoring her, Natasha was able to turn her head, letting the Hulk brush a different section of her hair. He continued to handle the brush gently, barely catching any hair with the bristles, and eventually he let his hand fall to his lap, the brush still cradled in his fingers.

“I believe Dr. Banner may be emerging soon.” Jarvis informed them calmly.

“Keep up with the scans, J.” Tony said, coming around into Natasha’s line of sight. “You doing alright?”

She nodded, still feeling jumpy under her skin, but much less so than she had before. “Yeah.” She squeezed Clint’s hands briefly, then slowly stood and turned to face the Hulk.

He was looking a little sleepy, his eyelids at half-mast, breathing deep and even.

“Thanks, Big Guy.” She murmured, stepping closer and taking the brush from his loose hand. Gathering her courage, she let her hand rest on a large green wrist bigger around than her waist. “You did a great job.”

With a shudder that made her jump, the Hulk suddenly twitched all over, and started shrinking.

Green was bleeding out into normal flesh, and in a few moments, Bruce was back, lying on the floor, shaking, but looking significantly calmer than he usually was after a change.

Tony, Clint, and Natasha all leaned down, holding their hands back until Bruce’s eyes focused and looked up at them.

“Hey, Brucie-bear.” Tony was first to touch him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “The nano pants held up.”

Bruce glanced down at himself, the black bike shorts that had been form-fitting on the Hulk still fitted snugly to his hips and thighs. He sounded a little bit drunk when he said, “Hey, cool.”

“Wanna go sit on the couch, or wait a bit.”

“Um… wait. Here is… here’s good.”

Tony hid a smile as he fetched a blanket and pillow from the nearby couch, arranging them with Clint's help.

Bruce glanced up at Natasha, his brown eyes a little glassy and unfocused. “Did I… did he brush your hair?”

She smiled a little bit and held up her brush. “He did, yeah. Did a great job, too.”

“Huh.” He laid his head down on the pillow. “Cool.”

Tony came back again with some kind of green juice in a squeezy bottle, and he gently shook Bruce’s shoulder. “Here we go, pal. Drink some of this, okay?”

Bruce nodded agreeably, but Tony ended up having to help him actually get the nozzle to his mouth. Natasha watched with concern, but Tony met her eyes a moment later.

“He’s gonna be a bit dopey like this for a little while. The longer changes tend to leave him more wrung out, but he does okay as long as he's aware enough to know what's going on.”

“You want help getting him on the couch?” Clint asked.

“I’ll get him up in a minute. Thanks though.” Tony tipped his head at the brush in Natasha’s hand. “You doing okay?”

She considered it for a moment, leaned slightly into the warm palm Clint rested on her back, and nodded. “I’m good.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Bruce twitched, and his eyes fluttered open, looking up at all of them. “I miss a party?”

“Hey, sleeping beauty. How you doing?”

“Mm. Hungry.” He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, holding the blanket around him tightly. “We okay?”

“Right as rain. Let’s get you on the couch, and I’ll grab you a sandwich.” Tony and Clint hauled Bruce to his feet, then Natasha ducked in under one arm while Tony went to the fridge to get some food.

“I already ask if you’re okay?” Bruce asked, his voice a little less slow and slurred as they made their way to the couch.

Natasha smiled, and gave his wrist a light squeeze. “I’m just fine.”

“I know he scares you.” Bruce groaned a little and sighed as he settled on the couch, curling up on his side.

“Yeah. But we’re doing better. He brushed my hair.”

“Yeah?”

“He was great,” Clint put in. “He acted like he was handling the finest of candy floss.”

“He did good.” Natasha unfolded another of the blankets kept next to the couch and settled it over Bruce. “We’re making progress.”

“Good to hear.” Bruce said sleepily, his eyes already closed. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“We get good data?”

“I have recorded everything for your and Mr. Stark’s later perusal, Dr. Banner. Shall I turn on the music you requested?”

Bruce hummed an affirmative, and the beginning notes of an opera filtered through the lab.

“No sleeping yet, eat first.” Tony ordered, bringing over a plate nearly overflowing with sandwich halves, pieces of cut fruit, and a baggie of chips.

Natasha had to hold back a laugh when Bruce made no response other than opening his mouth.

Laughing and muttering about high-maintenance Science Bros, Tony stuck a corner of a sandwich into Bruce’s mouth.

“We’ll see you guys later.” Natasha put a hand on both their shoulders and headed for the door. 

Clint stole a grape off the plate in Tony’s hand as he passed, tossing it high in the air and catching it in his mouth. “Later, science nerds.”

Tony waved a hand over his head, and Bruce nodded, chewing. The door closed behind the two ex-assassins, and the opera music filled the silence.

“Wasn’t so bad that time.” Bruce said after he swallowed another bite of the sandwich. “Seemed to come back easier.”

“Yeah, it looked that way.”

“Natasha really okay?” He opened his mouth for another bite.

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes in faux annoyance even as he poked a piece of watermelon into Bruce’s mouth with a fork. “It was tough, but she did it. I think it’ll be easier now, her being around Hulk.”

Bruce nodded, then freed his arm and patted around for the bottle of juice. Tony smirked and slid it into his questing hand, shaking his head a little. “You’re pathetic, you know that?”

“Shucks. I’m gonna blush.”

* * *

If there was one thing Bruce liked about the Hulk, really actually liked and didn't just tolerate with a minimum of upset… it was that when he shrank back into himself, he went about relatively unnoticed. People knew (and sometimes even loved) the Hulk, but Bruce Banner wasn’t a name too many people recognized. And if Bruce wore his glasses, it was rare that anyone noticed him out in public.

Right now, for example, the Avengers were just finishing up helping with securing and cleaning up the blown-out front of a bank. An enhanced human with combustible powers and a grudge had gotten out of control, but luckily there were no casualties. Just a lot of dust and debris. Once Hulk had finished moving a few larger pieces of rubble, Bruce had reappeared (the nano pants were holding up very well), and Clint had brought over a shirt and a pair of flip-flops.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Clint said quietly, adjusting the brim of his ball cap as the two of them managed to slide through the crowd, unnoticed now that they were both out of uniform. “Not being in the center of all that.”

Bruce nodded, smiling a little as he looked over his shoulder to where Tony was dealing with the press that had shown up. “I know Tony doesn’t like it all that much, but I’m glad he’s willing to take it for us.”

Clint bumped his shoulder against Bruce’s. “We’re destined to be the unpopular Avengers. Such is our lot in life.”

“Not a bad lot, I’ll be honest.” 

“Well fought, warrior brethren!” Thor caught up with them as they moved further away from the crowed, throwing an arm around each of them. “Do either of you require a lift back to the Tower?”

“I’m good for a walk,” Clint said, grinning at Bruce. Getting a lift from Thor was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, and it often left your hair quite staticky and poofy for the remainder of the day.

“Yeah, it’s not far.”

“I’ll join you, if I may. Stark is dispatching the crowd as we speak and handing over control of the scene to the proper authorities.” Thor left his impressively muscled arms around Clint and Bruce’s shoulders, which was easy as he stood more than a head taller than both of them. “Shall we acquire a meal for everyone to enjoy once we reconvene at home?”

“Pizza?” Clint suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea of his favorite food.

“Pizza.” Bruce agreed, and the three promenaded down the street, Bruce and Clint yoked in by Thor, their sights set on the closest pizza joint that Clint approved of.

* * *

The Bucky and Bruce friendship had been unexpected by all parties, but it was good one. 

Bucky had been a bit of a science nerd back in the day (dragging Steve to a science exhibition on his last night before shipping out to war wasn’t the least of the things he’d done in the name of science), and Bruce had dabbled in all sorts of scientific fields as well as his focus in gamma radiation.

It wasn’t uncommon to find them in the communal kitchen or living room, having an animated conversation about physics or space travel or cross-species biology. Tony often joined in, he and Bruce keeping Bucky up to speed when they used words or descriptions he hadn’t learned yet. Bucky picked up on new things quick, so it wasn’t long before the conversations got to the point that the other Avengers often had no idea what any of the three of them were talking about (with the exception of Thor, who rather enjoyed confounding the three of them with all sorts of talk about the advanced science that was simple child's play in Asgard).

Food was another bonding point for Bruce and Bucky. Bruce had picked up some recipes and techniques during his time in India, particularly curries that were spicy enough to even make Thor wince a little, but Bucky went after spicy food like it was his life blood. Natasha even caught him once adding hot sauce to one of Bruce’s milder curries he'd made for a team dinner, and left the room muttering about the dangers of things that would burn his ass tomorrow.

Movie nights found the two sitting next to each other with Steve on Bucky's other side, sharing popcorn sprinkled with garlic and cayenne pepper, exchanging science babble and criticizing movie science. Tony would often drop in on Bruce’s other side, jamming himself between Bruce and the arm of the sectional so Bruce ended up squished between a wiggling billionaire and a chuckling ex-assassin that refused to scoot over even though Steve made room.

It was nice. It was really nice. Bruce liked being part of that kind of claustrophobic mass of people, laughing to himself as Tony made grabby hands for the popcorn even though the cayenne gave him heartburn. He liked the way it felt when Bucky would put his arm around Bruce to poke Tony in the side of the head, and then leave his arm there because it gave them more room. He liked being surrounded on both sides by people he trusted, people that didn’t make him panic. People that wouldn’t be upset or hurt or confused if he needed to get away suddenly.

All of them were like that. Bruce knew he was more than a little touch-starved, desperate for human contact even as he tended to shy away from a lot of it. But he could trust this cobbled together group of people that were sitting, sprawling, and lying on the big sectional in the communal living room, trading popcorn and candy and talking over the movie.

So he let himself relax back into Bucky’s side, the metal arm behind his neck surprisingly comfortable. He let Tony shift around until he’d found a comfortable position, one leg thrown over the arm of the sectional and his head pillowed on Bruce’s shoulder. 

Bruce soaked it up like sunshine, grateful to have it, and he didn’t feel a smidgen of remorse when he poked a dozing Tony right in the ribs, making him squawk and fling his popcorn all over Bruce and Bucky.

The resulting popcorn fight ended with Thor standing on top of the island in the kitchen brandishing Mjolnir and threatening to pop more popcorn ammo with lightning if Clint and Steve didn’t surrender. And really, who could regret anything that ended like that?


End file.
